Water In Her Hands
by frodoschick
Summary: Geneviève is a Gypsy girl with a special ability. Clotaldo is her annoying neighbor. Will fate throw them together or drive them apart? -Before, during and after Hunchback of Notre Dame, 1996-
1. Chapter 1

This is the story of Clotaldo and Geneviève. Gypsies, in Clopin's troupe. This is their story. Events take place before, during and after the Hunchback of Notre Dame. (1996, Disney version)

* * *

Dedicated to my friends and loved ones. I wish that this story would work for me.

* * *

Disclaimer- I own nothing. Was there ever any doubt?

* * *

She stared down at the water cupped in her hands. Pictures flew across the rippling surface, colors, shapes, sometimes even sounds. She somehow knew that only she could see them. She always saw the pictures in her hands, whenever she held water. Sometimes the pictures delighted her, sometimes they frightened her. But with the innocence of most five-year-olds, she forgot them almost as soon as the water trickled from her tiny hands.

She was now fourteen, a young woman by gypsy standards. She never told anyone about the pictures in the water, even though she would have been revered in the Gypsy band. She might have even married the King of Gypsies. But she did not want that life. She never saw her own fortune, just others or general pictures. Now, she mostly avoided looking at the water in her hands. It wasn't that she was afraid, but the visions that she saw when she was five never played out. It was just different now.

Now she helped her mother in her fortune-telling business, sitting outside the tent, playing mystic tunes on a fife or pan-pipes. She wore purple and black, with hints of green in the skirt and in her straight black hair. She also liked putting green powder on her eyelids to make her sea-green eyes pop at the passersby. Most older ladies stopped at her mother's tent looking to have their palms read or to have her mother divine tea-leaves. (The nuns and men entered in the back.) Her mother knew the secrets of the business; tell the customer what they wanted to hear, no matter how ridiculous it was. The tent was a purple and red affair, with her mother wearing purple and red as well, but with moons and stars thrown about her ensemble.

The tent roughly stayed in the same spot, across from a tavern called "The Helm". When Geneviève played her pipes, people listened. Sometimes they would stop and throw a coin or two at her feet. Sometimes they would go into the tent, and come out a few moments later, giggling and blushing. Her mother would close the tent as the sun set and they did not work on the Sabbath. After all, the streets were empty. They would loose money.

That's when a bunch of gypsy children would sit outside of the cathedral, looking up at the rich church-goers, reaching out with rough, but clean hands. The younger children with their large eyes always got the most money. (They could pick up fifty or so gilders a day if they really poured on the puppy-eyes.) Geneviève remained in the shadows with the other teenagers, making sure that no-one tried to take the children. Once in a while, they would have to intercept a kidnapping in progress. But most of the time, they mostly kept a look-out for the soldiers that Judge Frollo hired to keep them away. A sharp whistle, and everyone scattered.

Mostly, she played her pipes. If she wasn't working with her mother, she was working with one of the dancers that went all about Paris. Sometimes, the neighboring boy, a curly-haired, lanky fifteen-year-old boy named Clotaldo, kept watch for soldiers. His whistle was the envy of all the other boys, even the non-gypsy ones. He was amazing with slight-of-hand tricks, amusing the population for a few guilders. He was annoying and rather proud of his contorting abilities. His mother bragged that he would be the next Master of Ceremonies. Geneviève disagreed heavily, just to annoy him.

It was a winter's night. She sat in the Court of Miracles, next to her family's wagon. She was playing a new song on her pipes, a song that Clopin had played once. She almost remembered all the notes. She sighed as she hit a wrong note. She stopped and prepared to start over again. But before she could start, the pipes were jerked out of her hands. She let fly with a fist. The boy dodged it and sat a few feet away like a cat, teasing her.

"Clotaldo, give them back." she said, sighing. "I'm trying to get the song right."

"Doin' a poor job of it." he remarked, still not relinquishing his hold on her pipes.

"Who asked your opinion?" she asked, holding out her hand for the pipes. He smirked, made a few deft gestures and they vanished. "Clotaldo!" she cried. He stuck his tongue at her.

"Looking for these?" asked Clopin, stepping up behind Clotaldo and producing the pipes from behind his ear. He handed them back to Geneviève. Clopin winked at her as Clotaldo blushed furiously behind him. "The song seemed familiar." he teased.

"You played it two Fesivals ago, I believe." replied Geneviève, cleaning her pipes from Clotaldo's touch on her skirt.

"Always the serious one." said Clopin, smiling and shaking his head. Geneviève smiled shyly. "Now you, Clotaldo." Clotaldo flinched. "How many times must I tell you? You must be faster, or someone will catch you one of these days."

"Yes Clopin." said Clotaldo. "I believe this belongs to you, sir." Clotaldo handed Clopin back the miniature puppet of Clopin that he kept on his belt.

"And I believe that this belongs to you." Clopin handed Clotaldo his earring and engraved leather necklet. "You always find me out, sir."

"And I always will." said Clopin with a smile. Clotaldo reattached his earring and leather necklet. He caught Geneviève glaring at him.

"What?" he asked, running a hand through his hair. He brought out a deck of cards and started to play with them, practicing. She snorted delicately, then went back to playing her pipes. They remained like that for a while, not talking.

"Geneviève!" called her mother from their wagon. "Come help me with something."

"Yes, mama." replied Geneviève. She stood up, her gold anklets jangling.

"Hey." said Clotaldo.

"Yes?" she replied. He remained silent for a moment, playing with the ends of his hair. She sighed, turning back to answer her mother's call. "I'm sorry, alright?"

"What?" she turned, but he was gone. That boy could move like lightning if he wanted to. He was probably back in his mother's wagon, practicing with the giant ball for the Festival in a few days. Geneviève shook her head and went back into her wagon.

* * *

"Why won't Clotaldo leave me be?" Geneviève asked her good friend Odette as they got ready for the Festival. Odette shrugged as she searched for a skirt to wear.

"I really don't know. Why does his teasing bother you so?" She asked, holding up a bright red skirt and comparing it to her champagne colored peasant top.

"I suppose it's because we grew up together." she said. "He knows just how to get a reaction. I really can't stand him!"

"Mmm-hmmm." said Odette, staring at the combination of a dark blue skirt with a teal over-skirt with the champagne shirt. "How about this?"

"I guess." said Geneviève, creating patterns with her purple and green eye-powder. She attached the circlet with the sun ornaments around her hair, securely fastening it.

"Just that?" asked Odette, placing many gold bangles on her wrists. She reached for a few more, holding them out to Geneviève. "Here, wear these."

"They would over power the sound of my pipes." said Geneviève logically.

"But you can't just wear that!" complained Odette, still holding them out. "I mean, that's nearly what you wear everyday! Today's the Festival of Fools! You _have_ to dress better!"

"Are you saying I don't look good?"

"No...but you could be a little bit fancier." Geneviève sighed.

"I really don't see the point. Besides, this is what the customers expect me to wear. It sets my mother's tent apart." Odette sighed as well.

"At least let me dress you up for the Feast afterwards!" Geneviève thought it over. The Feast was only among the Gypsies after all. If anything, she should have a bit of a change for the evening.

"Alright Odette. But only after the Festival has subsided." Odette squealed and hugged Geneviève tightly. "Yes, yes, stop that! You're mussing up my hair!"

"No I'm not!" They went through this everytime that Odette hugged her unexpectedly. Geneviève pretended that it was a bother, but she always hugged Odette back. Clotaldo's sharp whistle split the early morning air.

"It's time!" cried Odette, leaping up. She helped Geneviève stand and they ran outside with many other teenage girls, all giggling and laughing. Geneviève took up her place outside of her mother's tent.

"Good luck!" shouted Clotaldo as he dashed past. Geneviève waved as her mother stuck her head out of the tent.

"Geneviève, is everything ready?" she asked.

"Yes, mama. The city is about to awaken."

"Remember to wait until Clopin announces the Festival open. Then begin the music. Oh, and tonight, I want you to try your hand at fortune-telling!"

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Tell me what you think, please!


	2. Chapter 2

This is the story of Clotaldo and Geneviève. Gypsies, in Clopin's troupe. This is their story. Events take place before, during and after the Hunchback of Notre Dame. (1996, Disney version)

* * *

Dedicated to my friends and loved ones. I wish that this story would work for me.

* * *

Disclaimer- I own nothing. Was there ever any doubt? At all?

* * *

Late that night, Geneviève sat in her family's wagon, wringing her hands together. She was so terrified. She had never done any fortune-telling at all! She always shirked her lessons, preferring to play her pipes on a Parisian roof-top. But now, the tent was erected in the main court of the Court of Miracles, and she was expected to tell the fortunes of who-ever stepped inside.

"Remember to tell them what they want to hear..." she muttered to herself, her purple and black skirts rustling with every twitch of her leg. She played with her earrings, tugging gently at the hoops. What did the middle line in the center of the palm mean again...love? Life? DEATH?! '_Don't be ridiculous.'_ she scolded herself. '_It's the Head line, everyone knows that._'

"Geneviève?" said her mother, sticking her head in the wagon. Geneviève started as if it were a complete stranger looking in at her instead of her well-beloved mother.

"Yes?" she managed to gasp out.

"Ready?"

"Yes...?" squeaked Geneviève, following her mother out of the wagon into the Court of Miracles. There was a crowd around her tent...As if she weren't nervous enough already! Her mother shooed her into the tent. Geneviève sat down behind the table that was set in the middle of the tent, with the runes, tea-leaves and all sorts of other fortune-telling devices close at hand.

"Geneviève!" hissed Odette from the back of the tent. She dashed in, a necklace clutched in her hands. She slipped it about Geneviève's neck, tying it securely.

"What is it?" whispered Geneviève, pulling up the amulet to look at. A woman stood before a moon, a bow notched with an arrow pointing off the amulet.

"My mother gave it to me. Apparently it's a good luck charm from a goddess. I just know it's going to help you!" Odette pressed a kiss to Geneviève's head, quickly darting out again. Geneviève smiled. Somehow, her nerves weren't so jangled as before. She took a deep breath. Soon, her mother would open the tent flaps and Gypsies could come in and have their fortunes told.

There was suddenly a commotion outside.

"Esmeralda! Where have you been?"

"You almost missed the feast!"

"What on Earth possessed you to defy the Judge like that?"

"Oh, be quiet Gabrielle, I think she did splendidly!!"

"You won't think that when the Judge arrests her."

"She's too clever for that."

"Esmeralda, perhaps you would like to be my daughter's first customer? Free of charge?"

"You mean you were gonna have the rest of us _pay?_"

Geneviève could not catch her breath. Esmeralda was going to be her first customer? _La Esmeralda?!_ Oh...no. She couldn't do this, she wouldn't have minded if it were some stupid boy whom she could fool, but Esmeralda knew all of the gypsy trades! She'd know if she were making things up just to please her. She couldn't read her fortune, she wouldn't, she'd-!

"Geneviève? Esmeralda is here." And Esmeralda entered. As beautiful as always, with her mischievous jade eyes and small smile that tugged the corners of her mouth up. She was accompanied by Djali, who bleated when she saw Geneviève looking rather panic stricken behind the table. Esmeralda sat down, smoothing her skirts underneath her.

"Well?" she inquired playfully. Geneviève gulped, staring at her. Esmeralda held out her palm, Geneviève took it in her trembling hand. A few minutes later, she was ready to cry. She couldn't remember anything; she had botched the reading terribly.

"Perhaps runes?" inquired Esmeralda, eyebrow raised. Geneviève's hands shook as she took up the runes and dropped them onto the table. She managed to read one rune correctly, before loosing her mind entirely and telling Esmeralda that she would meet a tall dark stranger in five minutes that would whisk her away to a life in the stars. Esmeralda laughed.

They went through Tarot Cards, tea-leaves and even crystal divination, but Geneviève somehow managed to mess each reading incomprehensibly. She was very nearly about to burst into tears, when she remembered. She glanced around, pausing a few seconds before finding what she was looking for. She quickly went to the water bucket and scooped up a generous amount. She beckoned Esmeralda with her head, her earrings barely making a sound. Esmeralda came, kneeling on the floor next to her.

Geneviève took a steadying breath. She hadn't done this in years but she still didn't look down at the coolness in her hands. How did she get Esmeralda's fortune from the water? Esmeralda suddenly leaned forward and made a swirl in the water with the tip of her finger. Pictures suddenly stopped being so erratic, and settled. Geneviève stared deeply into the water in her hands.

"I see...quite a bit actually. A boy...not twenty one years of age. He lives high above, yet wishes to live below. He harbors feelings of adoration and love. Wait...another man comes to the surface. Handsome, brave, military. He has met you and saved your life. He too loves you, but this love is not quite as strong as the other's. Now there are dark images. A dark room, a dark man. He's old. No doubt, he is old. Disgusting, he wants you for himself...

_Then tell me, Maria  
Why I see her dancing there  
Why her smold'ring eyes still scorch my soul_

_I feel her, I see her  
The sun caught in raven hair  
Is blazing in me out of all control!_

_I'll find her...I'll find her if I have to burn down all of PARIS!_" Geneviève gasped from the feelings of lust that suddenly flamed through her for Esmeralda. She was channeling this man's emotions and thoughts...this was dangerous. But she could not stop. The channeling was quickly spiraling out of her control.

"_Hellfire  
Dark fire  
Now gypsy, it's your turn  
Choose me or  
Your pyre  
Be mine or you will burn!!_

_God have mercy on her...  
God have mercy on me...  
But she will be mine  
Or she will  
BURN!!_" Esmeralda's hand shot out, hitting the cupped hands. The water flew in all directions, Geneviève collapsed, panting and sobbing. Esmeralda gathered her up, hugging her tightly as Geneviève sobbed uncontrollably. Her mother dashed in, Gypsies stared in the flaps, Clotaldo's face most clear before darkness tugged at the edges of her vision and she decided to let go and forget...

* * *

She woke up quite a bit later, underneath several quilts and blankets from well-meaning Gypsy ladies, surrounded by tailsmans by well-meaning Gypsy men and with a cup of water mixed with crushed oats with a bit of ginger thrown in from her well-meaning mother. She sat up, groggily nursing her head. What would happen now?

Not wanting to answer her own question, she picked up the oat-ginger-water mixture and sipped tentatively at it. Her headache started to ebb, she started to be able to see a bit straighter. She looked at the nearly two dozen talismans surrounding her and smiled at the thought of the Gypsy men giving them up. She must have been a sight after that telling...As soon as she thought of the reading, her head starting hurting again. That channeling had gotten so out of control...She hadn't even meant to channel, but it had happened of course. The man must have had Gypsy mystic objects on him.

"Geneviève?" came a soft questioning voice from the flaps in the back of her family's wagon. Clotaldo poked his head into the wagon.

"Hey!" said Geneviève, yanking the quilts up to cover herself. All she had on was a shift. Clotaldo quickly shut his eyes but kept his head in. "What?'' she snapped, irritable.

"Somebody wants to see you." he said, his eyes still screwed shut.

"Who?"

"Just get out here."

"CLOTALDO!" came her mother's familiar bellow. She smiled with relief. Now she didn't have to speak to Clotaldo anymore. "What you doing, boy?!"

"It ain't my fault!" protested Clotaldo as her mother grabbed him by his ear. "Someone wants to see Geneviève!"

"Oh really? Who?" Clotaldo pulled her down and whispered into her ear. Geneviève grew extremely suspicious. Her mother's eyebrows shot up into her super curly black hair held back with a red headband.Geneviève's hopes sunk down into her stomach.

"Why didn't you say so?!" demanded her mother, letting go of Clotaldo's ear. Geneviève groaned quietly. "Com'n Geneviève! Throw on a skirt and make yourself semi-presentable. Clopin wants to see you."

"Oh!" said Geneviève, quickly getting up and putting on her black skirt and a champagne coloured peasant top. She tied a dark green sash about her waist and tied the matching headband in her fly-away hair. She rubbed her eyes, attempting to get the sleep grit out. Her mother quickly put a hand on her back and shoved her out the door, almost smack damb into Clopin's arms.

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Second chapter, please be kind.


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